


Two by two

by sburbanite



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Brief female presenting aziraphale and Crowley, Comedy, Crowley doesn't know where babies come from, First Kiss, Getting Together, Historical Inaccuracy, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, historical vignettes, very very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: The demon seemed completely unconcerned by the sight of the rapidly receding unicorn, which was hoofing it across the sands as if it knew what was coming.Aziraphale studied him out of the corner of his eye."I'm sorry, did you say "You've still gotoneof them?""Yeah." Crawly said, as if Aziraphale was being infuriatingly dense, and pointed. "Look. It's over there. One unicorn.""Right. And that will help how, exactly?"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 334





	Two by two

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Neil's confirmation that Crowley doesn't understand why you'd need to save more than one unicorn.

"Oi, Shem!" Shouted Crawly, "That unicorn's going to make a run for it!"

The unicorn did so, unwittingly dooming its entire species in the process. Aziraphale watched it go. It was a shame, but it was really just one small tragedy among many. Hard to feel sorry for a glorified horse when there were so many children underfoot who would soon be underwater.

"Oh well, you've still got one of them."

The demon seemed completely unconcerned by the sight of the rapidly receding unicorn, which was hoofing it across the sands as if it knew what was coming. 

Aziraphale studied him out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry, did you say "you've still got _ one _ of them?"

"Yeah." Crawly said, as if Aziraphale was being infuriatingly dense, and pointed. "Look. It's over there. One unicorn."

"Right. And that will help how, exactly?"

"It'll be saved, won't it? It won't drown when She throws her big celestial hissy fit. What part of this aren't you getting, angel?" He shook his head sadly. "S'more than these poor buggers'll get."

Crawly's expression soured to one of bitter dismay as he surveyed the crowd, which had gathered to watch the spectacle of a very tired family loading hundreds of uncooperative animals onto a massive wooden boat. It was probably the most entertaining thing any of them would ever see. It would also be one of the last.

"Yes. I suppose it is."

***

Almost two and a half thousand years later, Aziraphale bumped into Crawly quite unexpectedly on the Isle of Lesbos. He was currently _ she_, as the job necessitated, and while Crawly seemed content to sashay back and forth along the gender spectrum Aziraphale had never been quite as comfortable with change. The hair was a pain, for a start. Curls just didn't seem to want to behave when the weather was this hot; she felt a little like a sheep in need of a good shearing. Crawly, on the other hand, looked as infuriatingly elegant as ever in her black chiton and fashionable twisted braid, both held in place by pins shaped like snakes. 

Privately, Aziraphale decided there had to be some demonic magic at work to keep all that black cloth from becoming one big sweat stain.

"Almost didn't recognize you," drawled Crawly, smiling fondly, "though it's a good look for you, angel. I like the hair. Lots of it."

"Too much by far."

Aziraphale huffed and flipped some of it over his shoulder, where it proceeded to make his back hot instead.

"How do women do it, all this fabric and makeup and hair in this heat? I can't bear it."

Crawly laughed. 

"Fancy going to all this effort for one poet!" She said, lazily signalling for a server to bring over an amphora of house red, "Not sure what your dear, beloved Sappho would think if she knew what you usually look like."

"I am her trusted _confidante_." Aziraphale wrinkled her nose at the heavy-handed implication. "She'll be very important for human culture. Irreplaceablely so. She trusts women more readily, that's all."

"Who can blame her?" said Crawly, pouring herself a drink and knocking it back in one, "Men're only after one thing, after all."

Aziraphale poured a drink of her own and sipped it a good deal more daintily. The memory of unicorns came to her at the same time as the acidic burn of the wine hit her palate.

"And what is that?" She asked, meaning_ what do _ you _ think that is_.

Crawly rolled her eyes.

"Sex. Obviously."

"Obviously," Aziraphale echoed.

She sipped her wine. Crawly knew about sex, then. There really was no way Crawly could avoid knowing about sex, given that he'd spent considerably more than seven days in Eden. Adam and Eve hadn't had many options for entertainment but they'd found one they liked and stuck at it. By the time they left the garden they were experts, and Aziraphale had gotten rather good at walking around with his eyes closed, just in case. 

"I think there are quite a lot of women here with the same goal in mind," she said, testing the waters a little. 

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything," replied Crawly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Aziraphale's ample bosom, "but your new getup isn't going to convince anyone on this particular island that you're not interested in a bit of...that."

Aziraphale felt her cheeks warm up and forced them to stop it at once.

"I know you don't like the heat, angel, but this really is a brilliant place," Crawly said, downing her second cup and pouring out a third, "loads of lust floating around, plenty of temptation opportunities, and hardly any men to stare at your tits while you're trying to do your job."

Aziraphale carefully adjusted her gaze, which has slipped substantially south of Crawly's face.

"Only thing that's a bit weird is there don't seem to be many kids about." said Crawly, frowning.

Aziraphale choked on her mouthful of wine.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, y'know. Lots of humans living here. Not many small ones," she elaborated.

"Not many children in this particular _ female exclusive _ enclave, you mean?"

"Yeah. Women love kids, don't they? Generally, I mean. Or at least they seem to want 'em around more than the men do."

Well, _ that _ raised more questions than it answered.

She opened her mouth to ask one of them, whichever one was victorious in the lengthy battle going on in her head, but she never got the chance because Crowley leaned across the table and cheekily popped an olive in it. 

"You'll catch flies, angel," she said, with a wink.

After that, Aziraphale somehow completely forgot what they'd been talking about.

***

It was another two millennia and change before Aziraphale thought to ask about it again. They were feeding the miraculously restored ducks in St James's, only a month after the world had almost gone spectacularly tits up. There was a small flotilla of ducklings bobbing about, weeks out of season, which suggested that the ducks were almost as pleased about their continued existence as Aziraphale and Crowley were.

Crowley was doing a terrible job of ignoring them. From the careful blankness of his face, Aziraphale could tell he was hiding an expression of absolute enchantment behind those dark glasses.

"Rather a lot of ducklings for this time of year, wouldn't you say?" He said, watching Crowley out of the corner of his eye.

"Mmm. Fluffy little sods've been shitting everywhere."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the…" Aziraphale cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder, "... Armageddon incident?"

Crowley gave him a funny look.

"What are you getting at, angel?"

Aziraphale fidgeted with his bag of oats, staring out at all the fluffy little creatures bobbing on the water, and decided to just spit it out.

"Crowley, my dear. There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time, now. It's been weighing on my mind, and I don't think I can go another minute without knowing."

He looked up at Crowley, who had suddenly gone very pale. 

"Crowley…"

"Yes, angel?"

"My dear…"

Crowley swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing slowly up and down.

"Yes?"

"Do you _ know _ where babies come from?" Aziraphale asked, breathlessly, "Because it sometimes seems like you haven't the foggiest idea."

A lot of emotions crossed Crowley's face in quick succession. In the end, the one that settled there was sheer, blinding frustration.

"Oh for fuck's sake, angel!" He snarled, and stormed off down the path without another word.

Aziraphale wrung his hands anxiously, wondering what he could possibly have said. The demon could get into odd moods sometimes but he didn't usually _ leave _.

The realization of what Crowley had _thought_ he was going to ask hit him like an angelic punch to the gut a few minutes later, at which point he dropped his bag of oats and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. It wasn't terribly fast, but it was quick enough to catch up to a demon in the throes of an epic sulk.

"Oh, Crowley, I'm so sorry," he wheezed, "I know I've been incredibly stupid and insensitive and I didn't mean to tease you, dear, honestly, *huff* look, is there any chance you could *puff* slow down a bit?"

Crowley continued stalking towards the wrought iron gates without sparing a glance for Aziraphale, who was now thoroughly out of breath. It wasn't until the angel had to stop, doubled over and rubbing at a stitch in his side, that Crowley finally gave in. With an exasperated sound, he spun around and marched Aziraphale over to the nearest bench so he could have a much needed sit-down.

"Don't," hissed Crowley, when Aziraphale tried to speak, "I'm still angry with you. I just don't want you to discorporate yourself before you can apologize."

Aziraphale nodded, and had the decency to sit quietly while he got his breath back.

"I really am dreadfully sorry," he said quietly, once his lungs stopped burning, "It was frightfully callous of me to phrase it like that.'

"And whyever would that be, Aziraphale?" 

Crowley stared at him, his face a careful mask that the angel recognised as his furious face.

"Because... well, you know why, my dear."

"Humour me."

Aziraphale looked down at his hands, which were twisted in the hem of his jacket.

"Because...because of all the words that have gone unsaid between us for so many years. All that we've wanted to say but haven't been able to."

"Such as?" 

Crowley's voice had softened considerably, but Aziraphale still didn't dare look up. Instead, he closed his eyes as if that would make the words easier to say.

"Such as I can't imagine my life without you, dear boy, and...and I've been hopelessly in love with you for decades."

He heard Crowley make an odd little noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a click and a gasp. If he'd written it down phonetically it might have looked a little like "Ngk."

"And, of course, _ of course_, it's far more important to me to know your feelings about our...friendship than your understanding of the birds and the bee--"

Crowley cut him off by lifting his chin and kissing him soundly. 

It started as a soft, hesitant soap-bubble of a kiss, as if Crowley was terrified of breaking him, but quickly progressed to an all-encompassing warmth that spread through Aziraphale's body like the sun rising.

Aziraphale could have stayed like that forever, suspended in the moment he'd dreamed of for hundreds of years (with steadily decreasing levels of guilt). Unfortunately, Crowley had been far too distracted to stop time, and a man jogging past broke the spell with a loud wolf-whistle.

"Oh...bugger off and mind your own business!" Aziraphale shouted after him.

Crowley laughed. It was a bright, loud, glorious sound, and Aziraphale wasn't sure when he last truly heard it. It was the sound Crowley made when he was _ happy_.

There was a grin a mile wide on the demon's face. _ I did that_, Aziraphale thought to himself, _ that was _me.

"C'mon, angel. Let's take this somewhere private, shall we? I'll be damned if I'm going to talk about my feelings in the park."

"It's a bit late to worry about _ that_, my dear."

Crowley offered Aziraphale his arm as they strolled back towards the shop, and Aziraphale sighed happily as he took it.

"You _do_ know, though, don't you?" he murmured into the fabric of Crowley's coat as he leaned his head against his beloved demon, "where babies come from."

"'Course I do," said Crowley, "it's not exactly my area of expertise, obviously, but I do understand it."

Aziraphale felt the familiar sinking sensation of not having a clue what Crowley was talking about.

"Obviously?" 

"Well, yeah. It's one of Her things, isn't it?" Crowley gestured towards the sky, "handing out shiny new souls, that sort of thing."

And there it was, after all those thousands of years. The source of the odd little misunderstanding Aziraphale could always sense whenever Crowley talked about procreation. He recalled all the little euphemisms humans had for new life. They called it a _ miracle_. They called it a _ blessing_. 

"Oh dear," he said, suppressing the urge to laugh, "I do believe a bit of education might be in order."

Crowley groaned.

"Oh, what? Come on, angel. It's not like it's important for me to know all the ins and outs, is it?"

Aziraphale blushed.

"I think, in this particular case, I'd prefer it if you did."

***

With a flourish, Aziraphale flipped another transparency onto the overhead projector. Crowley had brought it over one day in the eighties so he could practice a presentation and had never bothered to come back for it.

"And, so, when the spermatozoa reach the ovvum…"

Over on the sofa, Crowley put his head in his hands and groaned.

"Oh for Satan's sake, Aziraphale. I've been to Hell and this is _ worse_."

"If you keep interrupting I'll have to start again," replied Aziraphale, folding his arms. "This is important, Crowley. How you managed to go six thousand years without learning the basics of sex education, I have no idea."

There was a mumbling sound from the hunched mass of denim and leather on the sofa. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"Do speak up, dear boy."

"I sssaid, this is mortifying!"

Crowley got up and stalked across the room, crowding Aziraphale against the wall. Neither of them paid any attention to the fact it had an illuminated diagram of a uterus projected onto it.

"You said this would be _ fun_," Crowley hissed, so close to Aziraphale's ear that he could feel the demon's warm breath.

"I _ implied _ it would be fun," corrected Aziraphale, straightening Crowley's collar affectionately, "although I wasn't necessarily referring to this part of the lesson."

"You weren't?" 

"No, darling," replied Aziraphale. His bowtie suddenly felt very tight. "I thought, after the quiz, we could try a _ practical _ demonstration."

Behind his sunglasses, Crowley's eyes widened.

"Practical."

"Yes, dear."

"As in…"

Aziraphale gave up on words and kissed him until he understood. As Crowley's unusual tongue found a home in his mouth, the angel wondered if the reading he'd done would be sufficient preparation. After all, there weren't any texts about angel/demon intimacy that had any basis in reality. All of them were pure fantasy, and Aziraphale owned every single one. Some of them had acquired semi-permanent collections of bookmarks.

But then, he supposed, he'd always fancied trying his hand at writing. What could be a better subject than the demon gazing lovingly at him as he got his breath back?

"Love you, angel," said Crowley, softly, as he tugged Aziraphale's bow tie undone. 

"I know, dearest. You've shown me for as long as I can remember."

Crowley hummed happily, burying his face into Aziraphale's neck and breathing deeply. Everything was warm and wonderful until Crowley's head suddenly shot up hard enough to dislodge his sunglasses completely.

"Wait a minute, did you say _after the_ _ quiz_?"

Aziraphale laughed.

"I could be persuaded to postpone it," he chuckled, "if you make it worth my while. Did you bring an apple for the teacher?"

Crowley took his hand and rested on the present he'd brought for the teacher, which was rather a generous gift even if he said so himself. 

Aziraphale proceeded to have a wonderful time unwrapping it.

**Author's Note:**

> A great deal of liberty taken with Sappho, who I only did a bit of research on and found out she claimed to be married to a made up bloke whose name translates roughly to "Dick Allcock from the Isle of Man"


End file.
